


Thanks for the Memories

by grbgcn2



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, It’s caused by their emotions, Soulmates that can see each other’s memories, or something like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 15:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16956930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grbgcn2/pseuds/grbgcn2
Summary: Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane was eighteen years old when he got his first Memory.





	Thanks for the Memories

Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane was eighteen years old when he got his first Memory.

He, along with other cadets, were testing out some new technology the Garrison had created. The only sounds were Iverson’s barks- orders along with the occasional grunts of approval and annoyance- and steady breathing. Iverson was in the middle of complimenting the group on their almost flawless performance when it happened. The world just suddenly shifted, no, more like glimmered out of existence.

Suddenly he was- _Warm. So warm. Safe. Wonder as his eyes were opened. Blurry faces in front of him bathed in soft light. As his eyes closed, he heard a woman  murmur something, pride in each word._

_“Katie. Her name is Katie.”_

* * *

 From then on, as time passed, Shiro gained many more Memories.

Some were life changing. Like when Katie first fell in love with technology.

_He was seven years old, intelligent and thirsty for knowledge, never satisfied. He was reading a book on coding and was amazed at how of numbers and letters-gibberish too him- could create words and messages that only he and a few others in the world- like her family- could decode. He felt like a spy, giddy with the knowledge he possessed._

By age ten, Katie- or Pidge- as her brother called her, had successfully taken apart and reassembled the family computer, adding some new program that'd she’d invented in secret over the years. One that would prevent anyone from hacking into their computer and that would in turn implant a deadly virus into the culprits.

Some of his Memories were brought on by Katie’s strong emotions.

At age thirteen, Shiro saw and felt Katie go through her first crush and heartbreak. Josh, was his name. A bully that had played on her emotions, that had pretended to be friends with her, and when he’d gotten close enough, bullied her for her intelligence. Calling her names like “nerd” and “loner.”

Katie was also thirteen when she got into her first fight- and won. Sure she’d gotten suspended for awhile but nothing compared to the elation she felt after winning. Shiro felt nothing but pride for her. In all honesty, he didn’t feel bad for the guy. He’d had it coming.

When her father had finished scolding her, saying that that wasn’t the way to handle things, Shiro felt an overwhelming need to hold Katie in his arms and comfort her. To reassure her that she wasn't the one at fault. To take her feelings of pain and guilt away into himself. But he couldn’t.

He was helpless as he watched her struggle everyday at school- the taunting, the hair tugs, the whispers. God, the whispers. If only he could be by her side- hold her close to block them, to catch the tears that fell from her eyes, and muffle her sobs.

* * *

Things got worse after Kerberos.

 _He was angry. Angry at the Garrison. There was no way there could’ve been a crash! Dad and Matt spoke highly of their pilot._ The Garrison must be hiding something, _he thought as he went up the stairs to his room._ And he was gonna find out what it was.

Shiro watched as Katie snuck into the Garrison. Watched as she found the records of the “crash landing.” Watched as she was discovered by Iverson- “You can’t keep me out! I’ll find the truth! I’ll never stop!”- and kicked out.

Watched as Katie Holt became Pidge Gunderson- like a snake shedding their skin.

All from the confines of his prison cell.


End file.
